


December Friends

by uniquepov



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Community: lewis_challenge, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:29:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1496695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uniquepov/pseuds/uniquepov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James tries to play Secret Santa, but he’s the one who keeps being surprised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	December Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dryad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad/gifts).



> Don’t own, don’t profit, please don’t sue.
> 
> Thank you to R, W, and S for the handholding, cheerleading, and beta work. All remaining errors are entirely my own.
> 
> This was originally written for the 2013 Lewis Secret Santa Exchange. My apologies for the posting delay - somehow I neglected to upload this post-reveals!

It was one of the Chief Super’s ‘team-building’ activities that had James tied up in knots, which, he thought wryly, was probably _not_ the point of the exercise. Participation in her latest scheme, ‘December Friends’ – really just a politically-framed Secret Santa exchange – was mandatory, and James’s heart was in his stomach as he dutifully drew out a folded slip of paper with the name of his hapless ~~victim~~ recipient. He tucked the piece of paper into the inner pocket of his suit jacket without looking at it. 

James had read the rules for Innocent’s ‘December Friends’ so often, he could probably quote them off by heart. No more than three small gifts, costing around £25 total, and left anonymously until Christmas Eve, when each friend was supposed to ‘unmask’ themselves to their recipient.

He’d never been good at superficial Christmas cheer or casual affection, both of which seemed to be a requirement of a successful Secret Santa. He had to hope the name he’d drawn was someone he knew well enough to guess at some innocuous items he could surreptitiously leave in a locker or on a desk. He went back to his office, sitting at his desk and withdrawing the slip of paper from his pocket. Perhaps he’d pulled Julie’s name, or Gurdip. Julie stopped at the Costa Coffee on the corner nearly every morning, and Gurdip always had an open packet of wine gums next to his computer monitor. Was it too much to hope that something might go in his favour for once?

He stared at the folded slip of paper for a long moment before taking a deep breath and unfolding it slowly. He read the name, blinked, read it again, and then dropped his forehead down onto his desk with a dull thud.

Playing Secret Santa was bad enough. Playing Secret Santa to _Lewis_ was infinitely worse.

It wasn’t that James disliked his governor; it was that he liked him rather _too_ much. His brain had already supplied a plethora of gift ideas, many of them wildly inappropriate. Just how did one play Secret Santa to a detective as skilled as Lewis without giving away the fact that James had a crush on him that was a mile wide?

_Yes, apparently the thought that things might be easy **was** too much to hope for,_ he thought despairingly.

***

This morning, he’d bought Lewis a pastry and coffee from a new coffee shop around the corner, intent on leaving it on his boss’s desk and feigning ignorance when questioned.

Lewis had arrived unusually early, however, and looked up from his desk as James entered the office. “Morning, James.”

“Good morning, sir.” James cursed inwardly, then gave a mental shrug. A bagman bringing his governor coffee and a pastry was not that out of the ordinary. Nothing to arouse suspicion. He’d just have to think of something else, gifts-wise. “Here,” he said, holding out the bag and cup. “I decided to try the new place around the corner this morning, and I brought you something as well.”

Lewis smiled his thanks as he fished in the bag, making a pleased sound as he discovered the almond croissant. “Ta, James,” he began, and then his eyes narrowed. “Where’s yours, then?”

James deliberately hadn’t got himself anything from the shop in order to avoid suspicion. Now, he thought fast. “I met a couple of mates there this morning and had my coffee there. I had a few minutes extra and thought I’d bring something along to you as well.”

“Why, James, I didn’t know you cared,” Lewis quipped. “You’ll make someone a right proper wife someday.”

“Thank heavens we found each other, sir,” James replied in the driest tone he could muster.

***

A few days later, James left a CD of Valery Gergiev conducting Wagner’s _Parsifal_ , which BBC Music Magazine had rated five stars and had been very favourably reviewed as a ‘CD of the week’ by Radio 3.

He wrapped it in garish Christmas paper that he found stashed in a storage cupboard in the nick. It was as far from wrapping tissue he might choose as he could get, and he left it on Lewis’s desk when his governor was in a senior officers’ briefing. He planned to say that someone must have smuggled it in when he went to the loo, and he was feeling rather smug in his successful attempt when Lewis returned. 

Lewis stared at the gift for a long moment, then swivelled in his chair. “I thought we agreed no presents this year.”

“Sir?” James summoned his most innocent expression.

“Care to explain this?” Lewis held up the CD, still in its gaudy gilt tissue.

“What makes you think it’s from me?” James managed.

“You used the same paper for your Swap gift at last year’s Christmas do,” Lewis pointed out.

“Ah.” James ducked his head as a blush suffused his cheeks. “I, er, saw it and thought of you. Thought I’d sneak it in with your ‘December Friends’ gifts and you’d be none the wiser.”

Lewis hummed. “Not seen any of those yet,” he mused. “I’ve already got mine sorted, thank goodness.”

“Oh? Who’d you get, then?”

“Never you mind, Sergeant. We all need to have our little secrets.” James smirked, and Lewis looked down again at the gift in his hands. Seeming to realise what he was doing, he gave himself a shake and set to unwrapping it. James heard his intake of breath as he read the cover. “James. Thank you,” Lewis breathed. “I’ve been wanting this.”

James could feel his blush returning. “I saw it got very positive reviews, and I took the liberty of perusing your CD collection the last time we had a takeaway at yours.”

Lewis looked surprised. “You never did. How’d I miss that?”

James gave him a small smile. “I have unimagined powers of stealth, sir.”

Lewis snorted. “Practically a ninja, you are.”

“I did study martial arts a bit while I was at Cambridge…”

“Is that like you ‘rowed a bit’?

James smiled enigmatically, and Lewis shook his head. “All right, Bruce Lee, I’m just glad you’ve chosen to use your powers for good.”

“Always, sir.”

***

James had been out with Lewis at the White Horse for a pub lunch, and when they returned to the office, there was a box wrapped in green and red paper with a glittering gold bow sitting on top of James’s desk.

“Ahh, your ‘December Friend’ has finally made an appearance,” Lewis said amiably as he shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the back of the door.

James nodded. “So it would appear, sir.”

“Are you going to open it, or just sit there staring at it?”

James dutifully opened the package, withdrawing a long, deep blue muffler made with the softest wool James had ever felt. “Oh,” he said softly. “It’s beautiful.”

Lewis came over to stand beside James’s desk, brushing his fingers against the wool. “Soft,” he said. “Looks like it might be handmade.”

“Do we know anyone in the station who knits?” James asked, still running his hands over the scarf.

“I’ve seen Madge knitting in the canteen,” Lewis volunteered. “I’m sure she’s not the only one, though.”

“I wonder if it could be her?”

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and see, eh, Sergeant?”

“Yes, sir.”

***

This time, James was certain he’d get away with his secret gift-giving. Lewis had been away at a training course all day yesterday, giving James ample time to secrete the gift and concoct a cover story. He was now sat at his desk, anxiously awaiting his governor’s arrival.

“Morning, James.”

“Good morning, sir.”

“Did you miss me?”

“Desperately, sir. Didn’t you notice all the weight I’ve lost? I couldn’t eat, for missing you.”

“James, why do you always add a ‘sir’ when you’re taking the piss?”

“Public school.”

It was then that Lewis noticed the gaily wrapped package peeking out from the stack of mail left in his inbox. “What’s this, then?”

James shrugged. “It was there when I got in yesterday.”

Lewis sat down, shrugging out of his jacket and laying it over the back of his chair before picking up the present and shaking it carefully. “Wonder what it is.”

“You know, there’s a foolproof way of figuring that out.”

“Is there, cleverclogs?”

“Yes.” James waited until Lewis gave him an impatient look. “You open it.”

“Oi, you…” Lewis said in exasperation, turning back to the package and unwrapping it slowly. It was a DVD of _The Snowman_ , the original version, and Lewis’s breath caught in his throat. “How – “ He paused, then continued, “James. Thank you.”

“How did you know it was from me?” James exclaimed, too surprised to dissemble.

“No one else’d think of giving this to me,” Lewis said quietly.

“Well, it was just that you said you couldn’t find your old one, and you wanted to bring it to Manchester to watch with your grandson. So I found you a copy.” James ducked his head. “I’m rubbish at this ‘Secret Santa’ stuff, aren’t I?”

“Nah. We just know each other too well,” Lewis reassured him with a smile. “So, you’re me ‘December Friend,’ are you?” James nodded, and Lewis actually chuckled. “Life is strange, eh, James?”

“What makes you say that, sir?”

“It’s the voice of experience, lad.”

***

The day before Christmas Eve, James came into work to find a small wrapped box on his desk. Lewis wasn’t in yet, and James looked around carefully for clues before sitting down and slowly unwrapping his gift. He was still staring at it some minutes later, when Lewis arrived.

“Morning, James.” Lewis paused in the act of shrugging off his coat when James didn’t answer him. “James?” Lewis snapped his fingers.

The sound caught James’s attention. “Sorry, sir. Good morning.”

“Away wit’ the faeries?”

“Something like that.” James turned his attention back to his desk. “My ‘December Friend’ has made another appearance.”

“That so? Let’s see, then.” James showed him the package. “What’s that? Guitar strings?”

“Very high quality guitar strings, sir. Nylon core with a copper wire wraparound coated with sterling silver. Exactly the kind of strings that I wanted, for the gigs with the band.”

“Well, someone’s got your number, don’t they?”

“Yes, but who could have known? It’s not like I advertise the band or our gigs anywhere around the nick.”

“Coppers are the worst gossips alive, Sergeant. Mark my words.”

“Yes, sir, but still. It must be someone who knows me, at least well enough to know what kind of guitar I have.”

“Pete’s sake, man, that’s public record for anyone who knows your guitar got stolen that time – which, again, coppers and gossip – all they’d’ve had to do was look up the report.”

“You filed a report?”

“Had to, didn’t I? Herself insisted.”

“I didn’t realise. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Nothing to apologise for, James. Just glad we got it back for you.”

“Me, too,” James said.

“So… these strings are something special?”

James nodded. “They really are. Whoever it is has gone far above what the rules say we’re to do. The scarf must have cost something, and these strings alone would be the best part of 25 quid, even if they found them on sale.”

“They must like you.”

“I really have to say thank you. I just have to figure out who they are first.”

“Well, lucky that you’re a not-bad detective, then, eh? Or at least, half of one.” James rolled his eyes, and Lewis continued, “You’ve only got a day to wait, anyway. Why don’t you come over to mine tonight? I’ll be leaving first thing to drive up to Manchester, but we could do beer and crap telly tonight to unwind?”

James put a hand to his chest. “The excitement might be too much for me.”

“Get away with you,” Lewis said. “And get to work, Sergeant.”

***

That night, after takeaway Chinese and several bottles of Bridge, James was sitting next to Lewis on the sofa. “You know, I wouldn’t mind hearing you play on those fancy new strings,” Lewis said, apropos of nothing.

“Really? Why?”

“Haven’t you worked it out yet?” 

James gave him a long look. “ _You’re_ my Secret Santa?”

“ _’December Friend,’_ ” Lewis corrected gently.

James was gobsmacked. “What are the odds…?”

“Of us drawing each other’s name? Pretty small, I’m guessing, even without the benefit of your massive brain.”

“Well, thank you for the presents. The scarf is lovely and the strings are… they’re exactly what I wanted.” 

Lewis gave him a shy smile. “Well, I do have one more present for you. I debated giving it to you, but …. I think it’s time.”

“You’ve already done too much,” James protested.

“Never you mind,” Lewis said. “I want to.” 

“What is it?”

“Close your eyes,” Lewis instructed.

James complied, and he could feel the cushions dip as Lewis shifted beside him. “I can’t imagine you topping those strings,” James warned.

“I might yet be able to surprise you,” Lewis retorted. “’Sides, I haven’t done too badly so far, have I?”

Then, James felt a brief huff of warm air against his jaw, and lips brushing against his own. James’s eyes flew open in shock. Lewis searched his gaze for a long moment, then leaned in to brush their lips together once more in a tender kiss.

“Happy Christmas, James.”

James couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. “Happy Christmas, sir- I mean, Robbie.” A mirroring grin answered him as James leaned in for another kiss.


End file.
